The chubby Rodian stumbled past the customs officer, turning for a moment to send a withering glare the officer's way. Not surprising, being frisked four times, having his luggage sifted through for the better part of an hour, and narrowly avoiding a cavity inspection tended to make such travelers rather angry.

Not that he was the only one. Moff Vorru had essentially dismantled Corellia's Customs Agency during his time as Moff. With his being sent to Kessel, a lot of new shipping restrictions were going up. Not all of them were well received.

A teenaged human stepped up to the customs gate.

"ID, please." The Customs officer impatiently tapped the transparisteel window in front of him as the boy fumbled for his ID, finally sliding the ID card underneath the windo. The Officer gave it a cursory glance, then nodded and flipped the switch, opening the repulsor gate for a moment for the boy to walk through. Teenaged humans were not on his list of usual suspects, and nothing had shown up on the scanning equipment that would be illegal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something, though. The boy was walking funny, holding his arms out, and fidgeting nervously. He picked up his comlink.

"Scan Control One to Response Team, we've got something weird going on. Human male, approximately sixteen, just left the gate. Check him out, something is funny about him."

He went back to what he was reading. It was probably nothing, but he got paid to keep an eye out for these things.

* * * * * * * *

"Sithspit."

Joran cursed as he looked at the two bags the Spaceport Response Team had found in the teen's underarms. They weren't cheap items, cushioned nerfhide with an outer lining made from the same substance as diffuser pads. That was how he got them past the initial scans, but the bags were overloaded and made him unable to hold a proper posture. They were sealed up in heavy-duty evidence bags, and given the extreme value of the contents, had been laser-sealed.

What was worse was what the bags carried. Stuffed to the brim with an orange-tinged spice. The labs had already taken a sample and confirmed it. "Glitterstim. And a hell of a lot of it, nearly two kilograms." That was easily a million credits when obtained through the legal channels, and the going rate on the black market was extremely high, given the addiction rate and how tightly controlled Spice was.

The detectives were arrayed around a small table in the Security division of Coronet Spaceport, with a monitor showing the teenaged perp sitting in an empty room, aside from the small chair and table.

"Look at him, he's just a kid. How the hell did he get his hands on this much glit, not to mention the diffuser bags?" Joran held his head in his hands for a moment, trying to process. It wasn't that complicated, but that didn't mean he wanted to think it. Of course, with what they had already learned, it was fairly obvious. The kid was a certain Cail Sinan, although his ID claimed Kail Nissas, but they had his holograph on record, Speeder thief and small-time thug. He'd been arrested about two years ago, but recently paroled. He didn't have the credits on hand to buy a landspeeder, much less this much glitterstim.

"Small-time Coruscanti street thug hauling this much glitterstim? If he's working alone, then I'm a hutt."